


Regicide.

by Frog_Magic



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Also! Remy’s full name is Romulus in this, Gen, Hunger Games AU, Kingsleep is alluded to and by god is it lowkey fucked, Press F for King, This is just “Jan n Remy plot a murder”, Tiberius is King, or not. Your choice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:56:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25372015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frog_Magic/pseuds/Frog_Magic
Summary: REGICIDEreg•i•cidethe action of killing a king.
Relationships: Deceit | Janus Sanders & Sleep | Remy Sanders, King Creativity/Sleep | Remy Sanders
Kudos: 6





	Regicide.

“ _ Rom! _ ”

A familiar call tore through the woods, calling out the name of an old friend. Janus’ voice still as familiar as ever, causing the sleep deprived tribute to straighten up immediately from where he was hunched down- tinkering with a set of wires and circuitry.It’d been… Days, since Romulus had heard from his fellow tribute, having not seen him since the first day of the Games- when Janus had all too easily broken their alliance like how he’d seen Remus from District 2 break a fellow tribute’s neck during the bloodbath.

It may have been a foolish move, calling a Career “friend”; but Janus had grown on Romulus like an infectious disease when they’d first met, honeyed words pouring into his ears until the other realized that there was no use for them. There was no need to charm the little tribute from District 5, because Romulus had never been able to be charmed from the start- Tiberius from District One had wrapped him around his little finger as soon as Preparation had begun. There was no chance that Janus could get into his head the way he’d planned to; being who he was- a lesser Career tribute from District 4. A fisherman with nothing but a knife and the scales tattooed over his scars. 

Janus had settled for worming his way into Romulus’ heart instead, absorbing what knowledge the other was able to pass on about electronics in the frame of trying to build a bomb; agreeing to ally with the smaller tribute in  _ what should have been _ a suicidal move .

It had shocked no one when both of the careers stringing Romulus along had dropped him like a piece of hot coals burning their hands once the Games had begun- not even Rom himself had been surprised, when he’d come back only to find his camp ransacked and empty of supplies. He’d had the feeling it would happen as soon as he trusted the older tributes- it’s why he’d kept all the important things in his bag when he’d left. They’d only managed to take one knife and a few pieces of food, assuming that was everything he’d had. Fools, the lot of them. 

Yet he still couldn’t bring himself to be mad- at least, not with Janus; who’d made it damn well clear where they’d stood. ‘Our alliance will be short, Romulus. But it’ll let you live. Be a damn waste for you to die on the first day, with those smarts of yours,’ he’d muttered one night, during the meals where they’d forced the tributes to dine on Capitol delicacies- fattening them up like pigs before the slaughter. The topic had changed quickly after that, of course- neither wanting the gamemakers or any of the other wealthy Capitolites to hear. They’d spent the rest of the night joking about how Caesar had dubbed Romulus “ _Remy_ ” on his show, after finding his name too ‘stuffy’ (the implication being that the name Romulus should’ve gone to someone in the Career districts; with how... ‘high brow’ it was). 

No, his anger was directed at Tiberius Reule; and Janus  knew that. That was why his fellow tribute had come looking for him. The air was heavy as the fisherman slowly approached; recognizing the circuits and wires for what they were- the makings of a compact bomb, as Romulus had taught him firsthand. (Say what you will about the small tribute, but he’d been a damn good teacher.) It’d been less than a day since the customary Career Alliance had fallen apart at Janus’ own hands, and it was time to wipe the board of the last power player- using the help of his ace in the hole. 

“ _Romulus_..” he hummed, unwilling to nudge the smaller into answering. After the first time Janus had nearly been bitten for doing so, he’d learned it was safer to poke him with a stick. Dark eyes flashed towards him, gimlet stare nearly piercing- not helped by the sleep deprived bruising clearly visible on the other’s face. 

“What do you want,  _Janny_ .  ‘ M workin, yeah?” Romulus’ words had a slight drawl to them, the District 5 accent clear in his voice. His tone was a sharp, no-nonsense thing; much like the dagger they both knew he’d hidden inside his jacket. 

“It’s time. The…alliance fell through.” Janus closed his eyes, tiredness weighing him down. Sleep was a hard thing to come by in these games- the need to watch your back was always a constant. He could feel the weight of Romulus’ stare on him; a heavy judgmental thing, as the other scanned him- trying to detect any lie.

Finally, after a moment’s silence, the other spoke. 

“I know. I heard the cannons. Why?” The question didn’t need to be finished- ‘ _why come tell me yourself_ _?_ ’- Janus knew what the smaller tribute meant. 

“Tiberius still lives.” He announced, words cutting straight to the chase. The scaled tribute knew that Romulus would only play nice for a time. If he wanted to coordinate a plan with him, he’d have to give him the details straight off- lest he be on the business end of the child’s knife. 

“The king’s still alive, hm?” Any pretense of softness dropped from Romulus’ voice, leaving only the sharp edges behind. The betrayal was a stinging, festering wound on his dignity even now- and small hands clutched the circuitry they were holding  _tightly_ , digging the board into his skin. 

“What do you want me to do about that, Janus? It’s your own fault for being unable to kill him, yes?” The smaller tribute’s tone was accusatory, now. Harsher than any fifteen year old’s voice ever should be. 

Janus hissed slightly, knowing the younger tribute was right- as much as he wished the case to be otherwise. He hadn’t been fast enough to take Tiberius down- the “King” of District One being much too well-trained for the fisherman’s ambush tactics to work. It’d been a damn wonder that Janus had even managed to take down District 2’s twins. (Separately, of course. They may have died to the same blade, but he’d at least given Remus the dignity of not dying at the same time as his younger brother). 

“Your bombs, Rom-“

“I  _could_ set one up to kill him, yes. But give me a good reason why I should help you, Janus.”

(They both knew that there was only one answer Romulus would accept.)

“Because I let you live. You  owe me whether you want to admit it or not,  _Romulus Somnum_ .”

There was a brief pause, before Romulus gave a quiet laugh. 

“Very well. I’ll give you my aid, Janus. Let’s.. commit regicide.”

And with that, the agreement was struck. 2 am, on the third night of the 75th Hunger Game- Romulus Somnum of District 5 and Janus Aletheia of District 4 plotted to kill Tiberius Reule of District 1.

Neither noticing the careful, quiet footsteps of someone running far, far away. 


End file.
